The Campfire Chronicles 1: Antivan Whorehouse
by Sannox
Summary: Good-natured rivalry and curiosity between romanceable, frequently selected companions, and the others. Zevran,Morrigan,Sten and Wynne discuss sex. Mildy adult.


'Greetings, stranger', said Morrigan as Zevran wandered over to the camp fire and sat cross-legged near the stew pot. 'To what do we owe this honour?'

Zevran stretched, his armour glistening in the firelight. 'Return to Ostagar', he said.

'Ah', said Wynne. 'The out of character approval loss?'

Zevran nodded. He ladled out a bowl of stew, tasted it and made a face.

'Sten, you handsome brute, would you mind passing the salt?'

'Handsome?' asked Sten.

'You have been spending a lot of time with the qunari warrior, Zevran' Wynne said. 'I am concerned about the nature of your relationship'.

'Mmm' said Zevran. 'All that heavy chain mail, Sten. Doesn't it feel so hot and uncomfortable by the fire?'

'What chainmail?' asked Sten.

'Oh, I see; said Zevran, noticing Sten's rough clothing. 'You haven't been out of camp since the cage, have you?'

'When the warden sees fit to select me, I will be ready. I have not yet been selected.'

'Not selected? I can't think why. A big, handsome fellow wielding a huge two-hander …'

Wynne cleared her throat. 'You're quite taken with each other, aren't you?'

'The qunari are not familiar with what your people call 'double entendre'.

'Oh? It is very simple, my friend.' said Zevran. 'I meant that not only do you have a huge sword, you also have a huge ..'

'I've noticed your blossoming relationship', said Wynne loudly, 'and I wanted to ask you where you thought it was going'

'I know what you meant', Sten told Zevran. 'I only wanted to hear you say it'

'Ah' Zevran chuckled. 'You like dirty talk? I know the type'

'Sten is a fine warrior' said Wynne. 'He is very large, and muscular. His voice is deep. I can see the attraction'. She ran a finger around the collar of her robe and flushed. 'He is very .. big, as I think I mentioned. As did you. But he is **not** a romanceable option'.

Zevran seemed to notice Wynne at last. 'For the warden, maybe. For me, I make my own rules'.

'We can't just make our own rules' said Wynne. 'We'd all be romancing each other, willy nilly, in and out of each other's tents. There would be no more lying night after night listening to the warden, wishing it was …'

'So, Sten' said Zevran, his throaty voice warm and inviting, 'Why don't we retire to your tent, and I can show you the sort of massage that can only be learned …'

'… in an Antivan whorehouse!' chorused Sten, Wynne and Morrigan, laughing.

'So cruel', sighed Zevran. 'I can only work with what I'm given'.

'So tell us, Zevran', said Morrigan. 'Exactly what sort of massage techniques **does** one learn in an Antivan whorehouse? We're all **dying** to know'.

'Ah, my dear lady. Perhaps we could retire to your tent, and I could show ….'

''It's too cold in my tent. I keep telling the warden, but do they listen?'

'And I want to know too' said Wynne.

'And I', said Sten.

'Ha ha', laughed Zevran. 'Well, I could tell you all, but I'd have to kill you. Oh, but it's hot by the fire' he said, fanning himself, and standing up. 'I think I'll take a little stroll, by myself …'

'Not so fast' said Sten, grabbing Zevran round the waist and pushing him gently, but firmly to the ground. Sten flung a heavy leg over Zevran's thighs, while Morrigan straddled his chest, pinning him down. Not that he appeared to be struggling too much.

'Do I have to torture the truth out of you?' she asked, leaning forward to pin his arms above his head, her barely covered breasts swinging over his face.

'Oh, yes!' said Zevran. 'I mean, oh no! Although let me warn you, I have never been known to succumb to torture. You may have to ..''

'Tickle torture it is then' said Morrigan. She grasped his wrists with one hand, and tickled his armpits with the other.

'No, not that' gasped Zevran. 'Wouldn't you rather beat it out of me?' Further down, he could feel rough hands parting his legs and sliding under the leather armour. Sten brushed the sensitive parts on his inner thighs and groin with infuriatingly light touches.

'No! Ah', said Zevran. 'Up a bit, Sten, Left a bit. No, stop! Wynne!' Wynne was tickling the soles of his feet, with a feather. At the other side of the camp, Dog barked. 'Hmm', said Wynne. 'Maybe it's time to call Dog over. We could spread some of the leftover stew on Zevran. It's a while since that dog has had a bone'.

'No!' said Zevran. 'I yield!'.

The tickling stopped, and the companions released Zevran. He sat up, panting a little, brushing away some grass and soil from his armour and skin.

'Fine', he said. 'I will tell you. But it is difficult to explain'.

'I'm a woman of the world' said Wynne. 'Well, the Circle, at least. You think we didn't find ways to entertain ourselves there? There's not a lot you can say that would shock me.'

'I know' said Zevran.

'You're blushing' said Morrigan. She poked his shoulder with a finger. 'Come on. Out with it'.

'Well, it's like this' said Zevran. 'We go to the tent'.

'Yes', said Sten. 'And what then?'

'Then we take our clothes off'.

'As I suspected' said Morrigan.

'But not …. not the underwear'.

'Not the underwear?' asked Wynne. 'Why not? How do you …?'

Zevran shrugged and picked up a pebble which he examined intently. 'It's the way it is. You want to know? I tell you'.

'Then tell us' said Morrigan. 'The secret sexual techniques, that can only be learned in an Antivan whorehouse'.

'As you wish', said Zevran. 'We get into slightly suggestive positions. I make it look as if we might just have completed or be about to start a sexual act. We do that for about twenty seconds, slowly, while romantic music plays. Then we have a cuddle'.

'And then?' asked Sten, eagerly.

'Then? Is that not enough for you? Are you people insatiable?'

'So that's it? Asked Wynne. 'The secrets of the great lover Zevran Arainai? 15 seconds of semi-clothed slow-motion frottage?'

'20 seconds! At least!' said Zevran.

'Oh, Zevran' said Morrigan, seductively. ''Tis cold in my tent. Won't you join me for 20 seconds of cuddling in mildly suggestive positions? I promise to cover my modesty with a brassiere, lest you find yourself filled with the fear at the sight of unclothed nipples'

Zevran met her gaze. 'You are a cruel woman to mock me so, Morrigan. You know how it is. You tell them'.

Morrigan sighed. 'He's right. The underwear. The poses. He missed out the goofy expressions'

'Lies and slander. I don't have 'goofy' expressions' said Zevran, but Morrigan waved her hand at him, dismissively.

'It's the same every time' she said. 'That's the way it is with the warden'. Sten and Wynne looked at each other, deflated. 'And Alistair?' asked Sten. 'Leliana?'

'I imagine it's just the same' said Morrigan. 'Except that they already start out with goofy expressions'

'So being romanceable isn't all it's cracked up to be?' said Wynne.

Zevran suddenly brightened. 'But that's what I've been trying to tell you, dear woman! There are rules about romancing the warden. But where are the rules about what goes on in camp when we're left behind?'

'You mean ..?', asked Sten.

'What happens in camp, stays in camp' said Zevran firmly, emphasising his words with a hand gesture. ' We are four, yes? The perfect number. Stoke the fire, spread the blankets, and I'll teach you all what I **really** learned in the Antivan whorehouse. '

A full twenty seconds later, there was a distinct lack of underwear and the fun had barely started.


End file.
